


Wibbly wobbly… time-y wimey… stuff.

by IdCrossEveryLineForHim



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz pov, Cuddling, Doctor Who References, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Sad Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Simon is cute, SnowBaz, Soft Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Sweet, Time Travel, Watford Fifth Year, accidental spellcasting, i live for sassy baz, looking at you simon, low key sad baz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 03:40:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19076743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdCrossEveryLineForHim/pseuds/IdCrossEveryLineForHim
Summary: Baz has a very nice dream where Simon is his boyfriend and has ... dragon wings?(The fic where 16 year old Simon sends 16 year old Baz to the future with accidental spell casting. We all know this is plausible.)





	Wibbly wobbly… time-y wimey… stuff.

Baz

 

 

 

 

It’s one o’clock in the morning, and Simon Snow is watching Doctor Who.

Granted, classes have just let out for holiday break and we’re both still at Watford. He can stay up as late as he wants now that he’s not physically required to haul himself down to breakfast at an ungodly hour before classes to stuff his face.

Still, he is subjecting me to the sight of his freckled face and bed head washed white in the shining glow of the laptop perched on his chest. His eyes are wide and captivated, the light catching in his blonde eyelashes and blown pupils and illuminating the deep bronze of the messy curls sticking straight up in the air. His mouth is even hanging open. It’s cold enough that he has his blanket draped around him like a giant hooded cape as he reclines against his headboard. Frankly, it’s adorable and I hate him for it.

As soon as I take all this in from the darkened doorway, his eyes flick up to meet mine and his face closes off. The _doooweeeedoooo_ of the Doctor Who theme song cuts off abruptly as he taps the space bar and sits up a little straighter. I’ve just arrived back from the catacombs, and I’m uncomfortably aware that we both know this fact. Usually he’s asleep, or pretending to be, by the time I sneak back into the room.

“Sorry,” he gruffs out. “I’ll turn it down if you want.”

I press my lips together. “Please do,” I drawl. “I’m getting ready for bed.”

And with that, I gather up my pajamas and disappear into the bathroom, taking my time in the hopes he will have abandoned his episode by the time I emerge. No such luck.

He is still huddled in his bed with his laptop, and before he pauses it again his eyes flick up to mine and I hear David Tennant’s tinny voice saying _“weeping angels - the only psychopaths in the universe to kill you nicely,”_ which tells me he’s watching the episode with the weeping angels. That creeps me right the fuck out, and I know there is no way I can sleep if I have weeping angels drifting in the back of my mind.

For reasons unknown, I can’t seem to tell him to turn it off, either. I huff and dig through my bedside drawer, finding my folded up headphones and flinging them at him. They hit him square in the face and he guffaws a bit in shock, before lifting them up, again, in shock.

Sometimes I can be nice.

“Just be quiet. And turn the brightness down.”

“Turn the brightness down?”

I roll my eyes. “Honestly Snow, didn’t you grow up Normal?” I say imperiously before going over and twisting his laptop towards myself.

“Hey!” he startles, lunging forward to snatch it back before stopping himself once I look up and give him my patented glare. He huffs and leans back, crossing his arms.

I quickly press the correct keys so the blinding white light dims to the lowest setting. “There.”

He mumbles a nearly unintelligible ‘thanks’ before he shuffles back into his pillows, plugging in the headphones and settling into the blanket nest he’s made. I quickly turn away and settle into my bed. This interaction has strangely bordered on friendly acquaintanceship, and it’s definitely time for me to go to sleep and attempt to scrub it from my brain.

The room has descended into darkness, only lit by the faint flickering of Snow’s screen. It can only have been around five minutes of me attempting to sleep when I hear Snow huffing quietly in delighted laughter at the show. I twist around, peering at him. I was facing the wall because I can't stand to look at him sometimes.

He’s already completely absorbed back into the Doctor Who episode, an unconscious, happy smile on his face. My heart leaps painfully in my chest just at the sight of it. He barely opens his mouth to whisper the words, “wibbly wobbly… time-y wimey… stuff,” presumably along with the Doctor with his famous lines.

No matter how quietly he says it, the magic reverberating through our room like fairy dust molasses at his words is anything but. There’s technically no sound, but it’s weighty as it settles on my skin, my blankets, my lungs.

For a moment, I’m quite terrified. I wonder frantically if we are about to be time-traveled to Merlin knows where because Simon gets overexcited about Doctor Who.

We both wait, expectant and tense, as absolutely nothing happens.

“What… the… _fuck_ … was _that_?!” I hiss at him.

“I dunno, I didn’t mean to!” he whispers back desperately.

I can’t resist glaring again, before taking an apprehensive glance around the room. The magic is fading, but I can almost taste it in the back of my throat, like it’s just sinking in. The room keeps its stillness, however. I glance at him quizzically one more time. He just shrugs.

“I can’t believe you’re the chosen one and you still think it’s a good idea to go around quoting famous lines about _time-travel_!” How am I in love with this complete idiot?

He at least has the good grace to look slightly abashed. I take a moment to settle myself between extreme exasperation and unacceptable fondness. “Well. If you aren’t going to be quiet, then go to sleep so I can,”

Snow thinks for a moment before shutting the laptop and setting it down beside his bed. “Fine. But only because the weeping angels give me nightmares.”

I don’t dignify that with a response, only turn back around and try to settle into sleep while ignoring the leftover vestiges of magic tugging at me. It feels like Simon’s magic, thick and vaguely woodsy. I take a deep breath, and in a few minutes, sleep thankfully drags me under in a deep, wooly cloud.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

I’m so warm. 

All I can think is that I am supremely comfortable, more than I can ever remember being. Sunlight is streaming in through the window behind me, painting my closed eyelids, and I tilt my head slightly to try to get away from it.

Suddenly, I realize the reason I’m so warm is because there is, in fact, a human body lying on top of me.

I open my eyes abruptly, and Simon Snow blinks up at me, not two inches away.

I freeze. What… why… I have to be dreaming. I feel my mouth open in a perfect _‘o’_ in shock.

From this close, I can see Simon’s freckles and moles in beautiful detail, dotted over his faintly gold nose and cheeks, his eyes impossibly blue and luminous and looking right into mine. I can practically feel the cut of his jaw and long neck as his breath fans over my face. I barely have time to take in how his body is nestled against mine, with our legs tangled and my arms wrapped snuggly around him.

“Mm,” Simon mumbles tiredly. He reaches up to rub at his eye, before scrunching his hand into his curly fringe to push it out of his face. “I think we fell asleep.”

“What?” is all I can muster in the moment. My voice is a little cracked from sleep. He ducks his face into my shoulder, and his ridiculous hair brushes lightly against my neck and chin. He sighs in a great gust, and it’s all too much to just be a very wonderful dream.

Is this real? It feels real. What in the name of Morgana is _happening_ right now??

I look around frantically. We’re in someone’s living room, and the tele is on. Unbelievably, Doctor Who is playing softly. It looks like the ninth Doctor with Billie Piper. There are two mugs of tea on the coffee table in front of us, as well as a bowl of popcorn. I’m almost positive Simon is wearing an outlandish Christmas jumper. I’m propped up against the pillowed armrest of a faded red sofa, and there are red woolen stockings on my feet that I’m nearly positive aren’t mine and Simon Snow is fully snuggled right on top of me.

At this moment, Simon groans and hugs closer to me, burying his face into my neck. My heart nearly stops in my chest. It’s instinctive to squeeze him closer to my chest.

“Baz, can we stay here forever?” he mumbles. I feel emotion lurching inside me, almost too much to contain. This feels like everything I’ve ever wanted.

At that thought, I know this can’t be anything more than an illusion of my fucked up brain. There is no reality in which Simon Snow would be with me. I throw caution to the wind with my next words. It takes me a moment to get the words through my stilted throat.

“Of course, love. I’d like nothing more.” I kiss his hair. It’s so gentle, and I close my eyes as I press my lips to his head.

Simon is still for a moment, before he sits up a little. He meets my eyes and his brow furrows as he contemplates my expression. I nearly can’t breathe when he reaches up with one hand and cradles the side of my face. His thumb brushes softly against my lower lip, dragging it slightly.

“You okay?” he says, looking right into my eyes.

No. You’re too much. It’s like looking into the sun.

“Wonderful,” I breathe. I can’t look away.

Slowly, slowly, he’s leaning in. My heart is thundering in my chest. His eyes shift down and zero in on my mouth, which is still parted under his thumb.

There’s no conceivably way to prepare myself for Simon Snow kissing me. Suddenly, all that exists is the slow movement of his lips tenderly shifting against mine. His mouth feels slightly too warm and he’s tilting his head, relishing in the press of lips against lips, his body pressing mine further into the couch as he tries to get closer. There’s the exhilarating flash of a wet, open mouth kiss, and then Simon’s hand is curling into my hair, tugging the strands slightly so he can kiss me deeper. I feel myself going completely pliant and letting him go. The next few minutes disappear into bliss.

However many minutes later, he slows slightly and sucks my lower lip lightly between his teeth. My breath leaves in a gust. Finally he pulls back, looking supremely satisfied with himself.

“Thanks for watching Doctor Who with me. Even though we fell asleep. It’s the only Christmas tradition I have.” He says softly.

All my bark was obliterated with that kiss. I’m feeling vaguely dazed and my heart is clenching at his words. “You’re welcome.” I lean forward slightly, unable to let that be the end. Simon obliges, pressing his lips against mine in a sweet kiss. He does it again, once, twice, before I feel him smile. He sighs, and then tucks his face into the side of mine, ducking back down to wrap his arms around my waist. I eagerly wrap my arms around his broad back, and we’re both squeezing slightly. 

We lay there for a moment, hugging on the couch. Neither of us is willing to let go. In that moment, I’m so happy. I can feel it surging through me, and I vow to remember this until I die. I run my fingers through Simon’s hair, holding him close. Tears are prickling behind my eyes, and my throat feels clogged. I freeze for as long as I can, trying to soak in the feel of the boy I love held in my arms. After a moment, I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. 

Simon inexplicably seems to sense my turmoil, because he pulls back again to peer at my face. He looks stricken at my distress. “Baz, Baz,” he coos, his fingers feathering near the corners of my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. He’s so beautiful and kind it hurts. This might be dream Simon but he's inexplicably exactly like real Simon. “I love you,” I say quietly.

He searches my eyes for a moment, seeming confused. “I love you too.” He brushes the hair away from my face gently.

“I’m okay,” I say, willing it to be true. In a way, it is. “Let’s sleep again.”

He doesn’t look away for a moment. He leans back down, tucking his face back against me. His hand is playing with my hair soothingly. “Okay.” His words are soft.

I settle back down, again trying to soak in the moment and squash down how real it all feels. I try to revel in it so I can remember this later.

That’s when I see the giant red dragon wings sticking out of Simon’s back.

Okay, that’s it. This is 100%, _definitely_ a dream, and a weird one at that. I have no idea how future Simon would wind up with literal, cartoon dragon wings sticking out of his shoulder blades. I shake my head, and then snuggle closer to the resting Simon on my chest. It’s easy to close my eyes, and let comfortable sleep wash back over me.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When I wake up again, I’m back in my dorm at Watford. Early morning light is washing the room a gentle gray. I’ve shifted in my sleep to face Simon, (surprise), and Simon has an arm thrown over his head and his blankets pushed down to his thighs. He’s breathing softly, and the calm sound of it blends with the quiet birdsong beginning outside.

I scrunch my face up as the dream comes back to me. It felt incredibly real. I can remember every second of it, in a way not common for dreams. I try to puzzle it out as I gaze at Snow in the gradually brightening room. It can’t have been the future… there were too many impossibilities. But it felt like more than a dream. I don’t come to any reasonable conclusion before he begins rustling about.

Simon pushes himself up and stretches languorously, in a way that should be illegal in my opinion. He’s not even wearing a shirt. I allow myself to drink him in, knowing he’s still 80% asleep. His stretch of gold skin over taught muscle is such an outlandish show; I have to push my eyes to the ceiling after a moment. Words bubble in my mouth – I have to know if he had the same weird experience as I did last night.

“Sweet dreams, Snow?” I manage an underlying mocking tone.

He scowls over at me. “No,” he gruffs. “Stayed up too late watching Doctor Who.”

I can’t even tell if I’m sad or relieved as I roll my eyes. “Whose fault is that?”

“Oh, fuck off,” he says, waving a hand at me before pushing himself up to use the bathroom.

I flop back into my bed, trying to process.

I can’t, really, so instead I replay the dream over again in my head. 

Simon Snow, my dragon boyfriend who likes hugs and naps. I feel myself smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> okay friends. I hope you enjoyed this fic. Its 4am and I'm feeling all the things. Please tell me your thoughts and feelings about this. All comments WILL make me do a mini happy dance. Anyways, this was so sweet and also sad in a way. I feel like I've been very mean to baz and I feel bad about it. Why do I love sad baz so much???????
> 
> Also I must say, my favorite things to write are things that I feel could fit into the current Carry On universe and wouldn't change anything. Simon really does love Doctor Who, and Baz probably would have written off a time traveling visit to his future boyfriend as a dream if he had dragon wings because thats RIDICULOUS lol. 
> 
> Links to the episode Simon is watching and the specific scene he quotes:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwdbLu_x0gY  
> https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x6u8org
> 
> Also, here's this, because I couldn't help myself. Here are some very simon and baz doctor who quotes that gave me the feels:
> 
>  
> 
> Quotes that made Simon cry because they were TRUE:
> 
> “When you’re a kid, they tell you it’s all… Grow up, get a job, get married, get a house, have a kid, and that’s it. But the truth is, the world is so much stranger than that. It’s so much darker. And so much madder. And so much better.”  
> — Elton Pope, Season 2, Episode 10.
> 
> “Courage isn’t just a matter of not being frightened, you know. It’s being afraid and doing what you have to do anyway.”  
> \-- The Doctor, 3rd (Jon Pertwee): 
> 
> “You don’t just give up. You don’t just let things happen. You make a stand! You say no! You have the guts to do what’s right, even when everyone else just runs away.” — Rose Tyler
> 
>  
> 
> Quotes that Simon and Baz watched together, and then Simon reached over and held Baz's hand and kissed his cheek:
> 
> “I’ll be a story in your head. That’s okay. We’re all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh? ‘Cause it was, you know. It was the best."
> 
> “There’s a lot of things you need to get across this universe. Warp drive… wormhole refractors… You know the thing you need most of all? You need a hand to hold.”  
> — The Doctor, Season 6, Episode 6
> 
>  
> 
> the real winner - Neil Gaiman : “Biting’s excellent. It’s like kissing – only there is a winner.” 
> 
>  
> 
> disclaimer: all characters belong to rainbow rowell.


End file.
